Harry Potter and the Powers That Be
by PrincessEilonwy
Summary: When a young wizard from England invades Nita and Kit's already abnormal lives, will things ever be the same?
1. The Beginning of the End

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Fortunately, Diane Duane and J.K. Rowling will most likely never know I wrote this.

A/N: Don't hurt me. Please. You don't understand, it was late at night and I'd had too much chocolate and…I had to. Actually I wrote something with sort of the same premise a few months ago but it got deleted when my hard drive malfunctioned. So…here is the altogether more random version, featuring Nita the Mary Sue and an extremely jealous Kit. Enjoy.

Harry Potter and the Powers That Be

It was nearly midnight when the doorbell rang.

"Get the door, Kit!" called Mr. Rodriguez from the kitchen. "Tell whoever it is we're not buying any." He muttered, "People these days—this ungodly hour—what the…"

"Aw…" said Kit, annoyed. He looked up from the intense game of chess he was playing with Nita. More like losing to her, really… "C'mon, can't someone else—"

_"No!"_ his father bellowed. _"Get the door!"_

"Fine," Kit muttered, pulling himself to his feet. Nita shot him a mock-sympathetic look as she took his last knight. "Not a word from you," he told her as he went to the door.

He pulled the door open, peering out into the dark. "Um, hello? What can I do for you?" he asked politely. "We're not buying any," he added as an afterthought.

"Er…" the person at the door said. "I seem to have taken the wrong Portkey, I'm sorry…Could you direct me to Ottery St. Catchpole, please?"

"Ottery-where?" Kit asked, ignoring Nita's barely audible snickers behind him.

The figure at the door stepped a little closer, into the light from the living room. "Sorry," he said again, his British accent more noticeable now. "I expect I've done something stupid again. Probably wound up in the wrong country…"

He was a boy about Kit's age, with untidy black hair, brilliant green eyes, and thick glasses. Kit looked at him a little suspiciously, wondering how someone could end up in the wrong country and not know it. And what in the world were Portkeys?

Kit suddenly had a thought. There was an odd feeling about this boy, almost a glow, almost like…

"Uh," he said uncertainly, "I'm on errantry and I greet you…?" He watched the other boy, waiting for a reaction.

The boy blinked. "Er, hi," he said slowly, eyeing Kit as though he thought he were slightly crazy. Obviously it was nothing more to him than an extremely odd salutation. "I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

There was a long silence. Kit stared. Finally he started to chuckle. "Okay," he said. "Right. –But seriously, what's your name?"

"I told you," the kid said with a small frown. "Harry Potter."

"Come _on_," Kit said derisively. He knew he was being a little rude, but it was the middle of the night. Whoever this lunatic was, he had no business banging on decent people's doors this late, and Kit felt he was entitled to a little snappishness. "Look, I don't know who you are, but—"

"What's going on?" Nita asked, appearing at Kit's elbow. "What is it?"

Kit rolled his eyes a little. "Kid says he's Harry Potter," he muttered to her, nodding at the boy. "I'm trying to get rid of him."

"I _am_ Harry Potter!" the other boy said loudly. Kit heard the noise of running water from the kitchen stop and knew his father was listening. "And I would appreciate it if you'd stop staring at me like that!" Apparently his mood at the moment was no better than Kit's.

"All right," Kit said reasonably, trading resigned looks with Nita. "I respect that. Now, since Halloween isn't for four months, if you would kindly just drop this Harry Potter thing and tell us who you are and what you need, I'm sure we can help you." _Help you find a psychiatrist,_ he thought irritably. You got all sorts of weird people these days…

A tiny doubt lurked in the back of his mind. There had been that odd feeling…Kit pushed the thought away. "Look, I don't know where you got this idea that you're Harry Potter, but I think we'd all be much happier if you just went away and left us in peace—"

"Kit!" Nita said reprovingly. But the boy was no longer listening to either of them. His green eyes were flashing with rage.

"So that's how it is," he snapped. "Think I'm crazy, do you? Well, JOIN THE CLUB!" He clenched his fists. "They all think I'm crazy. Nobody says anything, but I can see it in their eyes. And you're no different!"

Kit backed up a few steps. "Hey, I didn't mean—" He looked at Nita for help. "I mean, I was just a little, um, surprised…"

"You'll have to excuse him," Nita told the boy. "He hasn't taken his medicine yet." She patted Kit patronizingly on the top of his head.

"Hey!" Kit said indignantly. "Look who's talking!" He hated it when Nita was patronizing—it reminded him too much of Carmela.

Any further reflections on Nita's highly unsatisfactory behavior were driven out of Kit's head by what happened next. "You think I'm mad," the boy snarled, glaring at Kit. "Well, I've had enough of it, do you hear me, enough! I'll show you—"

"No, no, of course he believes you, of course you're not mad," Nita babbled frantically, trying to calm him down. She shot Kit a wide-eyed look. _You know, _now _would be a real good time for you to come up with some kind of plan…_

Kit didn't have time for a plan. In a heartbeat, the other boy had pulled out a thin piece of wood that resembled the rowan wand Kit had used for wizardries before. He pointed the thing straight at Kit, who tried instinctively and unsuccessfully to duck.

_"Petrificus totalus!"_

"Wow," Nita breathed, impressed, as Kit fell over sideways. She stared down at him, then up at Harry Potter—for there could be no doubt of his identity after that performance. She continued to stand there in the doorway and stare into space long after a highly embarrassed Harry had helped carry Kit inside to recover, apologizing abjectly for his temper. She was still staring thoughtfully out at the dark, empty street when a large owl swooped by and dropped an official-looking letter addressed to a Mr. H. Potter at her feet.

A/N: Er…it will get better, I promise…what more can I say? Have you ever had a great idea for a story and not had the first chapter come out quite like it should have? All I can do is promise the next chapter will be better. But hey, gimme a break, first Young Wizards fic. I had a few ideas before but they were all really stupid, as opposed to just kinda stupid. However, I do get some laughs at the thought of Nita smitten with Harry's good looks…and there really aren't enough humor stories around here. Hmm…maybe I could even bring in Dairine and Carmela to create romantic tension…you'll just have to wait and see, won't you? Review and I'll try to update soon!


	2. Unwelcome Guests

Disclaimer: I don't own any form of wizardry.

A/N: Yay, the second chapter!  And less than a week after the first one!  …I'm not one of those quick-updating people, as a rule.  Enjoy while you can.

AnyOtherName: Thanks!  Yes, reconciliation between the universes is a problem…not to mention between personalities.  As we shall see…

Fireblade K'Chona: Unfortunately, Harry totally in character is a bit much to hope for with me.  I did think the anger problem was in character, though…

viper676: Thanks!  I know I've read some of your stuff, but I don't think I ever reviewed any.  I will, though, I promise!

Venus Goddess Sailor Magna U: Yes, the blinking cursor in the first chapter is always kind of mocking, isn't it?  But I think it's gotten better…now it's just mildly sarcastic, not outright mocking…

Jubills543: Yep, asking for reviews is always a dangerous business.  Update your story too, ok?

mornstar: grin I like the screams of excitement.  That makes me happy as a writer.  Hope you like it.

Erin: Thanks!  Sometimes I have trouble coming up with titles, but this one was really pretty obvious…

Unwelcome Guests

"Look," said Harry, "I am really, really, _really_ sorry and I promise it will never happen again.  Unless you call me a nut again," he added.

Kit glared at him.  His brain was still busy trying to process the fact that a character straight out of a fantasy bestseller had shown up on his doorstep half an hour before.  It was much too late at night to expect his brain to work properly.  It didn't help that Nita had now had three cups of coffee and was as irritatingly energetic as ever.  _Put a hex on _her_ and see how she feels_, Kit thought grumpily.

Perhaps sensing his thought, Nita glanced over at him.  "How's your headache, Kit?" she asked sympathetically.  The sympathy was somewhat spoiled by the fact that she distinctly appeared to be trying not to snicker.  "Do you need more ice?"

"No," Kit muttered, slumping down in his chair.  He did, but he refused to give in to his splitting headache.  He had already made enough of a fool of himself for one night.  "I'm fine."

His father sighed.  "I'm not sure I'm understanding this," he said.  "So you really are…"

"Harry Potter, yes," Harry said, rolling his eyes a little.  "Want to see the scar?"

"No, no, that's fine," Mr. Rodriguez said quickly.  "It just seems so…unreal."  He shook his head and tried to suppress a yawn.  Kit's family was usually in bed by eleven at latest, and the lateness of the hour wasn't improving anyone's mood.

Kit, staring intently at Harry, saw him glance down at something in his lap.  "What's that?" he asked, a little more sharply than he meant to.

Harry looked up.  "What?  Oh, this…"  He placed a letter on the table.  "From the Ministry of Magic."

"Been expelled for good this time?" Kit asked nastily.  "Temper doesn't pay, does it?"  Nita kicked him under the table, hard.  "Ow!" he said loudly, not in the mood to be a good boy and shut up.

Harry turned a little red.  "None of your business," he snapped.  "I mean," he added in an obvious effort to be polite, "I'd rather not discuss it."

Kit smirked.  "Not going back to hoggy warty Hogwarts?"  Nita kicked him in the other shin.

"What Kit means is, is there anything we can do to help?" she asked soothingly, putting a comforting hand on Harry's arm.  Kit looked away and pretended not to notice the intense jealousy that filled him.  Nita was practically ignoring him!  Was this any way to treat her best friend?

He leaned back in his chair, deliberately casual and unconcerned.  "I think we ought to call Tom and Carl first before we do anything to help," he said authoritatively.  "They'll want to know about this for sure."

"Hmm, yes," Nita agreed reluctantly.  "Why don't you go ahead and call, Kit?"  She made shooing motions toward the phone before turning back to Harry.  "You haven't really told us, Harry, how did you manage to wind up here in the first place?"  Kit gave Harry a venomous look and headed for the phone.

Tom didn't react quite as Kit had hoped.  Actually, he had rather hoped that Tom would be incredibly upset and declare Harry Potter a threat to the very structure of space-time itself or something equally drastic.  Instead, Tom said, "Huhm…?  Kit, it's too late at night for this kind of thing…"

"_I_ know that!" said Kit, annoyed.  "I didn't ask for this!"

There was a short silence on the other end.  Then: "You're not kidding, are you."  It was not a question.

"Nope," Kit said with a small measure of satisfaction.  If he had to be miserable, he was darn well going to make sure to ruin everyone else's night too.  And, of course, it was his duty to report this sort of thing to the nearest Seniors…but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy it.  Misery loves company.

Tom sighed heavily.  "Lemme talk to Carl first," he said after a moment.  "We'll be over as soon as we have some idea what we're doing."  Kit snorted and hung up without bothering to say goodbye.

At the kitchen table, Nita was still quizzing Harry about his little Portkey fiasco.  "So you grabbed the wrong beer can?" she asked skeptically.

"Mmm-hmm," Harry said indistinctly through a mouthful of chocolate-chip cookie.  He swallowed.  "Yeah, I wasn't looking and grabbed the wrong brand.  And then—"  He shrugged.  "Here I am…"

"Wait," Kit interrupted.  "Any more of those cookies?"  Nita and Pop knew he loved cookies.  Surely they had saved him some…

His traitorous father and friend exchanged guilty looks.  "Actually," Nita admitted, "there were only a few.  And Harry was hungry, so…"  She shrugged, a little less apologetically than Kit would have liked.

"Sorry," Harry said insincerely, scarfing down the last of the cookies.  "I could eat a horse."  He looked around vaguely as if hoping more might appear out of thin air, but there were no more to be found.  "Excellent," he said, licking his fingers.

_This means war,_ Kit thought grimly.  He had invaded his house.  He had stolen his friend.  He had eaten his cookies.

He had to go.

Unfortunately, Tom and Carl didn't seem to understand the urgency of this when they showed up.  They, like Nita, seemed much more interested in questioning Harry than in meeting Kit's emotional needs.  Kit was reduced to occasionally moaning loudly and clutching his head, gaining him ten seconds of concerned attention before everyone was again focused on the famous Harry Potter.

"This Deputy Headmistress," Carl was saying, "do you know how we can get in contact with her?"  Tom nodded in agreement.

Harry shrugged helplessly.  "Do you have an owl?"

The two Seniors looked at each other.  "Last time I checked, no," Tom said dryly.  "Noticed any around lately?"  Carl hadn't either.

"We could do a transit," Carl said dubiously, "if you have coordinates."  Kit noted with contempt that Harry obviously didn't have the slightest idea how to give proper coordinates.  Instead, he scrawled some vague directions on the back of the Ministry envelope and handed them to Tom.

Tom looked them over.  He blinked once.  "Oookay," he said.  "We'll see what we can do."  Bidding everyone good night, he and Carl went into the backyard.  Kit strained his ears for the pop of displaced air, but they were too far away for it to be heard over the noises inside the house.

Harry was now explaining some of the finer points of Quidditch to Nita, who was hanging on his every word.  Kit didn't like the look in her eyes.  Not at all.

"—and then _he_ feinted—" Harry said excitedly, demonstrating with hand gestures.  "—and I dived—like this—and the other Beater came up behind and—"  He made a rather confusing but definitely violent gesture, accompanying it with a soft "Pow!"

"That sounds so exciting," Nita mused dreamily.  Kit couldn't help noticing that she was looking not at the recreation of the Quidditch game, but at Harry's green eyes.  "I wish we could see it, don't you, Kit?"  She turned to him, her eyes sparkling.

"Sounds barbaric to me," Kit said ungraciously.  "Here in America we have civilized sports where people don't end up in the Sahara Desert or fall off broomsticks."  How stupid could these wizards be?  Didn't they realize that this sort of thing was exactly what endangered their secrecy?

Nita didn't share his opinion.  "Oh, don't mind Kit, he's been this way all day," she told Harry with a tolerant smile.

"I have not!" Kit flared.  "Only since _certain people_ who will remain unnamed gave me injuries that will cripple me for life!"  He thought a little exaggeration was appropriate, considering.

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  "I said I was sorry," he reminded Kit, sounding a touch irritated.  "And you did tell me to go away."

"The offer stands," Kit muttered so that nobody could hear him.  Nita gave him a sharp look, but she obviously hadn't managed to make out what he had said.  He gave her an innocent, who-me? smile in return.

The conversation, which was degenerating in any case, was interrupted at this point by the back screen door opening again.  Tom and Carl entered, followed closely by a middle-aged woman in a pointed hat.  She was actually wearing a pointed hat.  This was enough to force Kit to hold his breath for several seconds until he could keep himself from laughing out loud.  Not only that, the hat was lopsided; she was a little out of breath and had obviously not quite been expecting the transit.

"Fascinating," she said to Carl.  "Rather like Apparating, but with more of a bang to it…"  She stopped dead when she saw Harry, and her already thin mouth compressed into a straight line.

"Mr. Potter," she said reprovingly, crossing to the table.  "What, exactly, is the meaning of this?"

"Er…" said Harry, seemingly at a loss for words.  "It was an accident, Professor McGonagall."  She continued to look at him sternly, and Kit could almost see him break out in a cold sweat.  "It really wasn't my fault," he said weakly.

McGonagall shook her head.  "I'm afraid you will have to explain that to the Ministry, Mr. Potter," she told him.  _"Another_ violation of the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizards…really, now…"

"Can I get you something to drink?" Mr. Rodriguez broke in, eager to get back onto safe, familiar ground.  Drinks he could handle.  "Water, coffee, tea, something stronger…?"

"Pumpkin juice will be fine for me," McGonagall said serenely, taking the chair Tom pulled out for her.  She took off her hat, revealing graying hair pulled back tightly in a bun.

Kit's father blinked.  "I…" he said.  "I'm afraid we're fresh out of pumpkin juice."

"Oh, of course," McGonagall said.  "Muggles, I quite forgot…"  She looked rather disapprovingly at Harry, who still had smudges of chocolate all over his face.  "Napkin, Mr. Potter."  Harry hastily wiped his face clean, casting a swift embarrassed glance at Nita.

_Oh ho,_ thought Kit.  _So _that's _the way it is._  If this Harry Potter thought he could just waltz right in and sweep someone as practical as Nita right off her feet, he had another think coming.  Nita would never fall for the first smooth-talking pretty-boy to cross her path…

Harry leaned closer to Nita so as not to interrupt the adults' conversation.  "Are all American girls as pretty as you?" he asked in an undertone.  Nita giggled and blushed.

Kit felt the bottom drop out of his stomach.  He had never seen Nita giggle and blush in his life.  Never even imagined such a thing could be possible.

Something was deeply, terribly wrong.

He couldn't stand it any more.  "Excuse me?  Tom?  Carl?" he asked.  "Shouldn't we be making plans to send Harry back where he belongs?"  _Not sitting in my house flirting with Nita!_

McGonagall cleared her throat.  "That is, of course, our greatest problem.  You see, young Mr. Potter was in fact attempting to reach Ottery St. Catchpole to stay with Arthur and Molly Weasley.  His own family members have, shall we say—"

"They kicked me out," Harry interrupted darkly.  "Had enough of my freaky wizarding stuff at last," he added with a touch of bitterness.  Kit would have felt sorry for him if he hadn't already hated him intensely.

"However," McGonagall continued, "there has been a change of circumstance.  It is no longer safe for Harry to stay with the Weasleys.  You know why, now?" she said to Tom and Carl, who both nodded solemnly.

"Hang on."  Harry didn't seem to notice McGonagall's annoyance at his interruption.  "If I'm not staying with them, then where…?"

"Where those we hide from would least expect to find you," McGonagall said with a trace of satisfaction.  "Although we certainly did not intend for you to end up here, it is perhaps just as well.  How many would think to look for you in America?"

Kit felt the blood drain from his face.  "You mean—"

"Mr. Potter must remain where he is for the time being," McGonagall said.  "We have already discussed it."  She turned to Tom and Carl.  "Perhaps you, as responsible—er, Seniors—could take him in?"

"Sorry, no," said Carl with an apologetic grimace.  "My brother's coming to stay in two days.  Don't want to raise any questions."

"No, of course not," McGonagall agreed.  "But we do want to keep this as quiet as possible, avoid involving more people than absolutely necessary."

"Meaning Harry has to stay with one of us," Kit said heavily.  He should have known the prospect of getting rid of him was too good to be true.

Nita looked up.  "I don't think there would be any problem with—"

"NO!" Kit cried, horrified.  Everyone stared at him.  "I mean, no, it'll be no trouble for us to fix up the guest room for you, Harry," he amended, trying for a polite, friendly smile.  He wouldn't have believed that he would ever volunteer for this, but the thought of that wolf in sheep's clothing staying in the same house with Nita was infinitely worse.

His father frowned slightly.  "Are you sure, Kit?  I mean, Nita said—"

"He can sleep in my room if he has to," Kit offered desperately.

"I don't think that will be necessary," said his father, giving him an odd look.  "I guess it's all right by me."  Kit breathed a sigh of relief.

McGonagall smiled tightly.  "That's settled, then.  And now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'd better be going back."  She retrieved her spectacularly ugly hat.  "Life goes on, you know…"

"Absolutely," Tom said.  "Thank you for your help, Professor.  We'll be in contact again soon."  McGonagall nodded to each of them and, quite suddenly, vanished.

"I think that's our cue to get lost as well," Carl said to Tom.  He turned to the rest of the group.  "Thanks for taking all this so well, guys," he said.  Kit snorted.  "We'll call you as soon as we have any news."

_"Dai stihó,"_ Tom said.  Nita returned the farewell, but Kit seemed to have developed a case of lockjaw and could only nod.  A moment later, the two Seniors were gone.

"So," Harry said, looking around the kitchen.  "Now what?"

"Now we go to bed," Kit's father said firmly.  "You spring chickens may not need your sleep, but I certainly do."  Kit rolled his eyes a little, wondering when his father had started actually using the phrase "spring chickens".

"I'd better go home," Nita said, glancing at the clock.  "My dad will wonder what happened to me.  –Wait, what was that?"

Everyone turned toward the entrance to the kitchen as Carmela appeared, having made her way downstairs for her habitual midnight snack.  "Hey, what's this, a slumber party?" she asked.  "Why's everyone up so late?"

Then her eyes fell on Harry and despite her bleary, sleep-encrusted eyes, Kit could see Carmela's expression change instantly.  "Ooh," she said, "who's _this?"_

It took all Kit's self-control to keep from banging his head on the table.  _Not again!_ he thought in anguish.

A/N: Hmm…somewhat better…yeah, the first chapter was just stupid.  So now the question is, what ways will Kit think of to torment Harry?  I'm thinking some OOC-ness is definitely called for…on everyone's part.  So, please review and I'll try to update soon!


	3. Attempted Murder

Disclaimer: Diane Duane and J.K. Rowling own their own stuff. I own the off-the-wall characterizations.

A/N: This is probably the fastest series of updating I've ever done in my life…witness my other stories that haven't been updated in over six months. I'm really liking this story and apparently you are too, so I'll update as soon as I can until school starts. ::dark muttering:: Has to start on the 13th this year, doesn't it? Couldn't give us a normal length vacation, could they? Anyway…

viper676: Weeeeell…we'll see. No, I have no life, I'm the one writing this…

Venus Goddess Sailor Magna U: OOC-iness it is…Enjoy. Can I call you Venus? Cool name, but hard on the fingertips…Yeah, I'm lazy.

Virgo: Poor unfortunate me. I just can't seem to write in character…I hope you enjoy it anyway. I personally always enjoy a little Harry-bashing.

mornstar: Jealous Kit is so much fun to write. So is Dense Nita. I only hope it's still entertaining to read.

Erin: Thanks! Here's another chapter!

RandoMaia: An enchanted Twizzler, huh? Didn't think of that one…That's funny, I like that.

edgy wedgy: Yes, Nita is extremely deluded. Imagine…she thinks she and Harry actually have something special…You need to read these books. You haven't yet, right?

AnyOtherName: Now, really…do you really think Kit would sacrifice Harry to the Lone Power? …Yeah, me too.

Reading Redhead: Yes, infinite possibilities for disaster…heh heh heh…muahahahahahaha.

Attempted Murder

Kit woke up to light streaming through the blinds on his window. For a moment, he couldn't remember why he was so upset. Then it all flooded back.

"Harry Potter, I'm gonna kill you," he groaned.

It was obviously going to be impossible to sleep any more, so Kit rolled out of bed with much weeping and gnashing of teeth and headed for the bathroom to splash some water on his face. It didn't help. Then he dragged back to his room to plot the destruction of Harry.

Perhaps, he thought, he could dig a large hole in the backyard all the way to China and push Harry into it. No…too much work. Or he could have Ponch create a universe filled with screaming fangirls, none of which were Nita, and leave Harry there. Then he'd at least have a lifetime supply…

He clenched his fists. "To the moon, Harry!" he growled, imitating Ralph from _The Honeymooners_, which his father occasionally made the family watch together on the grounds that it provided "bonding time". He sank back onto his bed and stared at the ceiling.

Wait…

To the moon…

With most people, this would be an empty threat, but for Kit, a wizard…Kit began to grin as endless possibilities suddenly filled his mind. "Easy as taking candy from a baby," he said to the ceiling and began to laugh maniacally.

Obviously, Kit had never tried taking candy from a baby, or he would not have used this particular simile. Trying to take candy from an infant usually fails because in 999 out of 1,000 cases, the baby will begin to cry, attracting the unwelcome attention of others in the area who will then scold the would-be thief for disturbing the baby. Kit was failing to take into account the fact that Harry Potter, by the simple virtue of being Harry Potter, automatically attracted attention in everything he did.

Ignoring this fact of life, Kit began to hatch a plot. Would it be best to "forget" to include Harry in the bubble of air that kept wizards visiting the moon from dying in the vacuum of space? Or would that be too hard to explain away later as an understandable error? Decisions, decisions…

His planning session was interrupted by the realization that his stomach was growling. Still deep in thought, Kit went downstairs and poured himself a bowl of cereal. Maybe he could push Harry out of the transit circle at the last moment, leaving him on the moon by himself…with no air…now that had promise. Just needed a bit of fine-tuning.

Kit was still eating when Harry came downstairs, his hair sticking up in all directions and his glasses almost sliding off the end of his nose. "'Morning," Harry said, obviously still half-asleep and blissfully oblivious to the fact that Kit was busy plotting his doom. "What's for breakfast?"

"See for yourself," Kit told him, then softened it hurriedly by adding, "If I were you, I'd wait till Carmela gets up. She can make a mean pancake." He had a brief and very attractive vision of adding a pinch of cyanide to Harry's orange juice, but quickly dismissed that. Too unsophisticated and, besides, where would he get the cyanide?

Harry smiled at him. "Look, Kit, I'm really sorry about last night. I didn't mean to intrude on your peaceful life or anything…"

Kit snorted. "Peaceful, my foot. You have no idea." Still, Harry's apology hadn't covered the main grievance Kit held against him: Nita. He hadn't said he was sorry for stealing Kit's best friend right out from under his nose, making her into one of those giggling, hair-twirling creatures Kit despised. And for that, he would die.

"I wanted to thank you for being so nice about all this," Harry continued. "I mean, here I show up in the middle of the night and you give me a place to stay and everything." He shrugged. "So…thanks."

"Don't mention it," Kit said. It took all his self-control to keep his voice from shaking with rage. He quickly got up, deposited his bowl in the sink, and shoved his way past a bleary-eyed Harry. The main thing was to get out of the same room as Harry before he committed murder. These things must be done delicately, after all…

An hour later, Kit felt up to talking to Harry again. He went to the guest bedroom and knocked politely. "Hey, Harry?" he called through the door. "Want to go to the moon today?"

Kit had barely gotten the words out of his mouth before the door swung open. _"What?"_ Harry asked in disbelief. Kit gave him what he hoped was a friendly smile and leaned casually against the doorway.

"See, it's like this…"

Most unfortunately, something occurred just as they were about to leave. "Something" meaning "Nita". She appeared in the living room, bright and cheerful despite their late night.

"What's going on?" she asked Kit, but she was quickly distracted by Harry. Kit scowled as she turned to him and repeated the question.

Harry grinned like a two-year-old at Christmas. "We're going to the moon," he told Nita. "Want to come along?" Kit smacked himself in the forehead. Of course! Why hadn't he seen it coming? It would be almost impossible to do anything to Harry with Nita along!

Unless…Taking advantage of Nita's distraction, Kit reached into his otherspace pocket, pulled out his rowan wand, and began to write in the Speech on the living room carpet. After all, if Harry was going to travel with them, he would need his name included in the transit circle…

"How's this look?" he asked Harry, pointing at the string of characters.

Harry squinted at it. "Er…fine…?" But Nita was looking at it too.

"Kit, Kit, Kit," she said patiently, shaking her head. "You were up much too late last night." Kit smoldered, recalling exactly whose fault _that_ had been.

Nita continued, "Just look at this! It's lucky I'm here…Why, over here you've described Harry with a third arm growing out of his forehead!" Kit looked shocked. "And here you said his…" She trailed off as she read. "…oh, my…"

"What?" Harry asked, curious.

"Nothing," Kit told him. "Just tired, that's all. Nita's proofreading for me." He forced a smile. "Wouldn't want you to end up in thirty small pieces on the other end, now would we?"

At last Nita was satisfied that no harm would come to Harry. However, she insisted on doing the rest of the transit circle herself. "You just rest and get your strength back," she said patronizingly to Kit, who bristled. He was sure she would never say anything like that to her precious Harry.

Just as the circle was ready, with the corrected version of Harry's name added in, Carmela bounded into the living room. "Going somewhere?" she asked in a frighteningly cheerful voice. "Can I come?" Kit let out a groan of relief as they disappeared from the living room with a pop. Another lovestruck female staring at Harry would have been just too much.

"Wow," Harry breathed, looking around him. "This is amazing." Kit scowled; Nita had taken them to a small crater that he considered their private spot, where they sat and talked or just enjoyed each other's company. Or at least they had before someone else came along…

"I still can't believe this." Harry was grinning at Nita. "Thanks for bringing me here."

Kit cleared his throat. "Of course," he said before Harry and Nita could exchange any more sappy looks, "it was _my_ idea…"

Nita gave him a sharp look. _What's wrong with you?_ she asked silently. Kit shook his head—if she didn't know, he wasn't going to tell her. He did have his pride, after all.

"Right," Harry said with much less enthusiasm. "Thanks, Kit." He sat down on the rim of the crater, and Nita followed suit. Kit jealously eyed the four-foot space between them, imagining Harry edging closer…closer…

"Do you come here often?" Harry asked, making an obvious effort to break the tense silence. Kit noted that the question was addressed to Nita.

She shrugged and looked down at her feet. "Yeah," she said. "It's so peaceful…and Earth is absolutely gorgeous from here if you catch it at the right time."

"Gorgeous," Harry repeated, but he wasn't scanning the airless sky for a sign of their home planet. His green eyes were fixed on Nita.

This had to stop. Before he could think better of it, Kit had vaulted over the edge of the crater and taken a seat between the two lovebirds. "So," he said in a horrible impression of polite curiosity. "Do you have a girlfriend back in England?"

Kit could feel Nita's eyes burning a hole in the back of his neck, but he stared at Harry, eyes narrowed, waiting for a reply. Maybe, just maybe, he could nip this little summer romance right in the bud.

"Er." Harry coughed a few times, took off his glasses, and began to clean them on his T-shirt. "You know, that's actually a very personal question…" He tried to lean past Kit to say something to Nita, but Kit stopped him with a glare that would have frozen carbon dioxide.

"I asked you a question," he said. "Do you have a significant other?" _I sound like someone on a soap opera,_ Kit thought. It must be a side effect of being around Harry.

He felt a sharp pain in his left arm as Nita pinched him. "Kit!" she snapped in a low voice. "Be nice!"

Nice. Ha. That was a good one. "I _am_ being nice," he protested, nettled. "I'm just making polite conversation." He turned back to Harry. "So, as you were saying…?"

Harry looked around for help. Understandably enough, nobody else seemed to be around. Nobody except the three of them.

It would be a perfect opportunity. He could murder Harry, leave the body here, and nobody would know…except Nita…that was a bit of a drawback. He didn't think she would understand if he plunged a knife into her new crush.

"No, I don't have a girlfriend," Harry said brusquely, interrupting Kit's thoughts. "Not that it's any of your business. There was one girl, but…we agreed it wasn't working out." He pointedly avoided Kit's gaze, staring out at the starlit horizon. "Are you happy?"

Kit wasn't happy. Not at all. Things would have been so much easier if Harry wasn't single…

"Stop kicking up dust, Kit," Nita said reprovingly, changing the subject before Kit could say anything rude. "You're as bad as Dairine."

"Thanks," Kit muttered sarcastically, but he stopped. The only thing worse than seeing Nita stolen away by a spoiled boarding-school brat was being compared to her sister Dairine. That was the ultimate insult. Pouting slightly, he abandoned his spot between Harry and Nita and moved further away to regain his privacy. No point in subjecting himself to more misery.

Deliberately tuning out Harry and Nita's conversation, Kit put his brilliant mind to work on more ways to hurt Harry or otherwise get revenge. The name trick hadn't worked…any direct physical attack was obviously out…what was left? Aside from the hole to China, of course.

Unobtrusively, Kit turned his back on the pair and pulled out his manual. He was about to engage in some highly unethical activities…Tom and Carl would not be pleased if they found out. Of course, he didn't intend for them to find out.

He looked up a particular spell, then grinned. Perfect. If he could pull it off unnoticed…Carefully, he began to read under his breath in the Speech. He had that peculiar feeling he always got, of the universe leaning in around him, listening to hear what he would say next…but it was different this time. This time the universe seemed to be listening with a certain amount of disapproval, like an old friend who won't turn you in for breaking the rules but will give you reproachful looks. Kit wasn't sure he liked it.

Still—this was too perfect to pass up. Hurriedly, he said the last word, snapped the manual shut silently, and waited.

He didn't have to wait long. "Augh!" Harry screamed, leaping up as if jabbed in a sensitive spot by a poker. "Get them off me!" He danced around, slapping at himself like mad. Nita stared, her eyes wide.

Kit was doubled over with laughter. His specialty was so-called "inanimate" objects like cars, as a rule, but it had been a simple enough matter to talk the molecules of air directly around Harry into trying something new, into becoming, just for a moment, another element entirely…Kit realized with a rush of pride that he was becoming quite mean-spirited, and devilishly clever to boot. What would he think of next?

Nita, however, was not amused. "It's all right, Harry," she said soothingly, guiding him back to his seat. The tiny, invisible tongues of flame had, of course, reverted back to their normal state. "What was it?"

"I'm fine," Harry said, seemingly by reflex. His hair was smoking a little, but he didn't seem to notice. "It's all right now…it's gone."

Kit made the mistake of snickering softly in the short silence that followed. Nita turned on him. "You think it's funny?!" she demanded. "Harry could have died!"

"Quick, call the fire department!" Kit choked, rolling on the floor of the crater. He was amazed at his own wit.

This was another mistake. "Fire, was it?" Nita asked in a dangerously soft voice. "And just how do _you_ know?" Kit gulped.

"I meant, he acted like he was covered in thousands of tiny flames," he said hastily. "That's just what it looked like, of course I don't know anything about it…"

Kit was not a very good liar. He knew it, and he knew Nita knew it. Still, he was a little surprised at the force of her fury.

"I cannot believe you!" Nita exploded. "Kit, Harry is our guest! And you…you…" She trailed off in incoherent rage and went to take care of Harry, who was still looking rather shell-shocked. "It's okay, Harry, I honestly don't know what got into him—"

Kit was in complete and utter disgrace. Nita refused to speak to him or even look at him as she laid out the transit circle for their return. Once back in the Rodriguez living room, Harry made a beeline for his room and Nita transited back to her own house, staying only long enough to give Kit a dirty look. Obviously she thought the best punishment would be the silent treatment.

After a bit of thinking, Kit came up with a new plan. Electing to walk to give himself more time to think, he headed for the Callahan residence. He let himself in the back door, which was unlocked, and silently climbed the stairs to the second floor. Tiptoeing down the hallway, he stopped at one of the bedroom doors and knocked.

"What is it?" came a slightly surly voice from inside the room. "Go away!"

"It's me," Kit hissed. "Open the door."

There was a pause. Then Kit heard the padding of feet crossing the room, and the door opened. "What?"

Kit took a deep breath and swallowed his pride. "Dairine," he said miserably, "I need help."

A/N: Dun dun DUN…Kit must be desperate if he's going to Dairine for help, huh? But she has more experience being evil, so it makes sense. I had this extremely weird thing last night instead of the little fire fiasco, which is weird enough by itself…I had to fix it this morning. I'll do you the favor of not telling you about it. It was weird. Which, by a coincidence, exactly describes Kit's state of mind at this point…I'll try to update soon and give you a more entertaining chapter, free of weird things we won't talk about because you'd run away screaming. Meanwhile, review!


	4. Professional Help

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. Give my most heartfelt apologies to Diane Duane and J.K. Rowling if you happen to see them.

A/N: Wow, I love all these reviews…maybe I should write more YW stuff…or maybe reread the books before I write anything actually involving huge amounts of details.

viper676: Yeah, Kit being an idiot is turning into an everyday thing in this story. Hmm…you'd wager 5 bucks on Dairine/Harry? I must remember that for when I figure out where the plot is actually going…

speshul ed: Mmmmhmm. Right. Actually, I don't know if that one's on the list of torments that will befall Harry, but...Thanks, I hope you like this chapter too! (At the risk of looking stupid, what's Get Fuzzy?)

edgy wedgy: Isn't it arsenic in apple seeds? And cyanide in peach pits? Yes, Kit is desperate indeed to go to Dairine. About on the desperation level of Macbeth visiting the weird sisters…And you do need to read the books. Go to your library and find _So You Want to be a Wizard_ by Diane Duane. General appeal to other reviewers: Guys, doesn't he need to read the YW books?

Fireblade K'Chona: Thanks! Kit's got kind of a right to be cranky, wouldn't you say? After all, Harry's coming between him and Nita...and Nita doesn't seem to notice _why_ Kit's so jealous...poor boy.

mornstar: It's very fun. They're normally...well, normal...but add Harry Potter and everything goes down the tubes.

Erin: Revenge is sweet indeed, especially with Harry. Hope you like this...

AnyOtherName: Ah, but Harry doesn't know what's coming, does he? If he were smart he might run, but as it is...well, we'll see what happens.

Jubills543: Thank you, thank you! Hope you enjoy.

Reading Redhead: Yeah, Nita is meant to be pretty darn out of character. How else would she become a Mary Sue, right? Hmm...for Harry to be properly in character I may need him to yell at people more...we'll see.

smile7499: Yes, it's slightly bizarre. But I love tormenting Harry, and Kit needs a little adversity in his life, so...Lord Vodkamort?! Gonna have to read that one...

alex: Nita is so out of character it isn't even funny. But she may get better, depending on whether or not she realizes that Kit is madly in love with her. I haven't decided yet.

RandoMaia: Thanks...I try. Hope you like!

Professional Help

"Help," Dairine said, looking at Kit in disbelief. "_You're_ asking for help from _me?_" Kit glared at her. He hated rhetorical questions.

Dairine, being her usual maddening self, took her sweet time tidying up her room a little before she would talk about it. Finally she finished cleaning her desk and stood up. She smiled tolerantly at Kit, who was standing right behind her with crossed arms and glowering.

"So," she asked innocently, "is this about the famous Harry Potter?"

Kit gaped. "How did you know?" he demanded.

Dairine snorted. "Do I look that stupid? Nita's been talking about nothing except Mr. Scarface since he showed up the other night." She shook her head. "I mean, really…"

"Then you know what kind of help I need." Kit sat down on the edge of her bed without being asked. "He's got Nita completely duped! She's all ready for him to sweep her off her feet and carry her off to Hogwarts or something."

"I know," Dairine said, sounding supremely unconcerned. "But that's kinda her business, isn't it?" She placed a few more pencils in a coffee can covered with blue construction paper.

Kit shook his head. "You don't understand! You're only her sister, but I'm…"

_"Only?!"_

"…I'm her partner," he finished glumly. "And then this jerk—" He pounded a fist into the nearest throw pillow.

Dairine grinned, a grin Kit had reason to fear. "You're just jeeeeaaaaalous," she crooned.

"Am not!" Kit said furiously. "It's just—you don't know what it's like!" Dairine shrugged and smirked at him.

At this point Kit remembered that he had come to see Dairine for a reason. "But like I said, I need help," he said after a pause. He looked imploringly up at Dairine.

"I don't know," she said primly, turning her back on him. "After the way you talked to me…"

Kit knew what she was asking for. "Please?" he begged, abandoning all shreds of dignity. "C'mon, Dairine, it's revenge! You love revenge!" It was true. Dairine didn't quite live for revenge, but it was one of her great joys in life.

Meditatively, Dairine turned back and sat on the bed beside him. "Remember, Kit," she said wisely, "revenge is a dish best served cold." Kit wondered whether whoever had made up that proverb knew of the existence of microwave ovens.

"You mean you'll help?" he asked excitedly. Dairine studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly. She went to her desk and grabbed a notebook to scribble down ideas, and the two began to plot Harry's doom.

Meanwhile, Harry Potter was blissfully unaware of the evil that awaited him at the Callahans' house. Nita was obviously reluctant to talk to anyone, even him, so he wandered around, exploring Kit's house. Deep in his walnut-sized brain, he was pondering the problem of Kit. Why was he acting so antagonistic?

Aimlessly, Harry ambled into the living room. Kit's sister—what was her name, Caramel? no accounting for these weird American names—was sprawled on the floor, watching the strangest television program Harry had ever seen.

It got stranger when she started talking back to it. She wasn't using any language he recognized, and he wondered momentarily if she was the crazy sister the Rodriguezes shut up in the attic when company came. The next second, the three-headed figure on the screen said something, unmistakably in response, and Harry began to wonder if _he _was going crazy. Televisions didn't talk—but no, he should be used to that sort of thing after five years in the wizarding world.

"Um, hi?" he said hesitantly. The girl looked up, and a frighteningly happy expression crossed her face. She said something apologetic-sounding to the figure on the TV screen and hit the power button on the remote, ignoring what sounded like a muffled protest in Japanese from the TV set. Harry stared.

"Hi!" she said, standing up. "I don't know if you really remember me, I'm Kit's sister Carmela." She flashed him a dazzling smile. "And you're Harry Potter."

"Yeah," he murmured, slightly dazed. How could he have forgotten Carmela? "Nice to see you again."

"Yeah." They both looked around the living room for a few seconds, having temporarily run out of small talk. Harry darted small glances at her, unconsciously comparing her to Nita. This visit to America was getting more interesting by the minute.

"So," Carmela said at last. "Have you been out of the house much? Gotten to see any of the sights?"

Harry winced a little. "We went to the moon," he muttered, not wanting to get into details.

Carmela rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Of course, those two would drag you _there_ first," she said disparagingly, as if she thought the moon much too boring to merit such a visit. "But have you been anywhere else?"

"No, I've just been wandering around here," Harry admitted. He didn't want to seem ungrateful for the lack of amusement he had found so far, but she had asked. "It's been a little boring."

Carmela looked at him, her head tipped a little to one side. She thought for a second, then brightened. "I've got just the thing," she announced.

"What?" Harry asked, suddenly a bit apprehensive.

"No visit here is complete without a trip to the mall," Carmela told him happily. Harry blinked.

In her bedroom a few blocks away, Dairine grinned happily at Kit. "This is gonna be the best week ever," she said.

Kit was inclined to agree. The horror of having Harry around would be more than balanced by the torment he and Dairine were going to inflict on him. "Nobody does petty revenge like you, Dairine," he said admiringly.

Dairine bowed modestly. "Hold your applause for after the show, ladies and gentlemen," she told the mostly empty room. "So when should we get started?" She cast a proud glance in the direction of her notebook, which now contained a little less than six pages of evil schemes.

"Hold on," Kit said suddenly, snatching the notebook and paging through their ideas. "Half of these won't work."

"Why not?" Dairine was obviously not happy about this. Neither was Kit, of course, but his common sense was now kicking in full force.

"Wizardry's out," he said glumly. "I already tried something in that line, and Nita will _kill_ me if it happens again. Not to mention the fact that Tom and Carl might notice…"

Dairine sighed a little. "Right. Let me see that." She grabbed the notebook from Kit without waiting for a response and flipped through the pages, crossing out lines here and there. Kit watched her, hoping there would still be plenty of things on the list when she was done.

At last Dairine looked up at him. "Okay, this is what's left." She handed the list to him, and he scanned it quickly. "May I make a suggestion?"

"Of course," Kit answered, still reading. "You're the professional here." Dairine smiled. A little bit of flattery never hurt, especially with someone like Dairine.

"Number twenty-three is particularly effective," Dairine said with a slightly malicious grin. "If you do what I say, it should work like a charm. All you need is…" Kit settled himself in her desk chair, pencil poised to take notes.

Harry gave Carmela a dark look. "I cannot _believe_ I am doing this," he muttered.

"I know," Carmela said with an incredible lack of sympathy, "but it'll work, believe me." She patted his shoulder. "Nobody will even notice you."

"Somehow, I doubt that," Harry said dryly. He was wearing a huge orange baseball cap that entirely covered his unruly black hair and his scar, sunglasses to hide his distinctive green eyes, and a T-shirt with a picture of a squirrel on it—Carmela hadn't mentioned how Kit had come by it, and he hadn't asked. Some stones were better left unturned.

Carmela smiled at him as she half-dragged, half-led him into the mall. "Come on, Harry, it'll be fun. I don't suppose you'd rather be trampled by fangirls?" He had to admit that that was quite low on his priorities list.

"So, remind me again," he said, "what exactly is the point of this trip?" He distinctly heard Carmela snort in disbelief, but he was distracted by the huge crowds of people. Instinctively, he drew back a few steps, expecting someone to yell, "Hey, look over there! It's the boy who lived!" Old habits die hard.

"Silly boy," said Carmela affectionately, dragging him over to the large map of the mall. A large white dot marked the spot where they were standing. "The point is to hang!" Seeing the puzzled look on his face, she elaborated. "Hang. Go to the food court. Watch other people. Look at clothes, maybe even buy something, you know?"

Harry decided that drop-dead gorgeous or not, Carmela was one of the most annoying people he'd ever met in his life. He would much rather be going to the mall with Nita, if he had to go at all. They could go to a movie, maybe, and then ice cream…

Carmela cleared her throat impatiently. "Are you coming or not?" It was obviously a rhetorical question, so Harry reluctantly followed her through what seemed like miles and miles of mall. He was suddenly glad the Dursleys had never cared enough to take him shopping for anything.

After the longest half hour of Harry's life, they stopped and bought huge pretzels as big as Harry's head. Carmela insisted on paying, which was just as well, since Harry normally didn't make a point of carrying dollar bills around. Grateful for some sustenance after the long trek, Harry tore into his pretzel with enthusiasm that would have made Ron proud. They continued walking as they ate.

"So, Harry," Carmela said in a tone of voice he didn't quite like, "is there anyone special in your life?"

Harry choked on a bit of pretzel. "Special?" he repeated, not sure he had heard right. Or if he had heard right, he couldn't possibly have understood. The phrase must have some special American slang meaning.

"Yes, _special._" Carmela took a bite of her cheese-and-pickle pretzel and wiped her mouth daintily with a napkin. "You know, special. A girlfriend."

There was a long pause at this. Harry wondered why he was being asked this totally pointless question for the second time that day. The disastrous events surrounding the first time didn't bear thinking about.

"I, um," he said intelligently. "Well, really, you know, I kind of—hang on. Why do you want to know?" Harry had a nasty suspicion he already knew why she was asking.

Carmela smiled, and his nasty suspicion was confirmed. "Just wondering," she said, tossing her hair back over her shoulders ostentatiously. "No reason, really."

Before he knew what he was doing, Harry had put his back to the wall by the entrance to a store and had his wand at the ready. It was more or less an instinctive reaction to trouble by now. "Oh no you don't," he hissed at Carmela.

She looked shocked. "Harry, what are you—"

"Not a step closer! Don't come near me!" He was aware that he was yelling, that people were starting to stare, that he really should put his wand away before he got into real trouble. But then, common sense in sticky situations had never been his strong suit.

Carmela was looking slightly desperate. "Come on, Harry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, now will you please _calm down…!_" She made a halfhearted grab for the wand, but he wiggled it menacingly and she retreated a few steps.

"I have had enough of this," Harry announced loudly, feeling the familiar senseless rage start to build. It was only his second time to make a scene overseas, and he didn't really feel like stopping yet. "You're all a bunch of wackos! Just because I'm Harry Potter…"

At this point, Carmela really did go for his wand. There was a short tussle, but she quickly emerged victorious. "Nothing to see here, folks," she told the gathering crowd calmly. "Move along, now, move along, nothing to see. We were just on the way to see his therapist." The crowd didn't seem very convinced.

Turning to Harry, Carmela leveled the wand at him. "I cannot _believe_ you blew your cover in public," she muttered at him. "Now march. We're going home."

Harry had only been warming up for a really scathing round of general insulting and screaming. "What if I won't?" he asked, still angry. "You can't use that." Muggles were much easier to deal with than fellow wizards, if only because they couldn't hex him.

Most pieces of wood are quite fearsome by themselves even without being endowed with magical powers, especially if they are jabbed into a sensitive spot on one's arm. Harry yelped in pain and, slightly cowed, allowed himself to be towed out of the mall and toward home at warp speed by a furious Carmela. He couldn't bring himself to imagine what Nita would think of him after this.

Unnoticed by the confused and now slowly dispersing shoppers, a young woman on a bench nearby had pulled out her cell phone and was feverishly punching buttons, talking to herself under her breath.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," she fumed. "We are so gonna need a timeslide to cover this one…"

To Harry's relief, Carmela did not announce his little temper tantrum to the whole world once they reached the house. Instead, she marched him firmly to his room, replying to his attempts to get his wand back with, "We'll see once you start behaving yourself, young man." It was amazing, Harry reflected. Twenty minutes earlier he could have sworn she would melt into a puddle of feminine goo if he smiled at her, and now…now she bore a striking resemblance to his uncle Vernon. He would never understand girls.

Any further thoughts on the mysterious nature of girls were driven out of his mind as he opened the door to his room, which was slightly ajar. This seemingly unimportant fact took on a sinister significance as the bucket of molasses came crashing down on his head, followed by a second bucket full of feathers. Harry had never seen this done except in movies and had in fact often wondered if it was as effective in real life.

It was.

Harry stood in the doorway of his room, spluttering slightly, trying to think straight while spitting out bits of feather. Puzzlement as to where Kit could possibly have gotten molasses and feathers on such short notice was followed by a conviction that life was dreadfully unfair, which was followed by grim admiration that Kit had even remembered to spread a tarp in the doorway so that nothing got on the white carpet.

Which was followed by homicidal rage.

After a moment, Harry more or less collected his thoughts and started trying to clean up. He didn't want anyone else to find out about this little fiasco. Oh no, this would be something between him and Kit. This was personal.

This was war.

A/N: Yay! I have no clue whether any of that was actually funny, but I've always wanted to see Harry get molasses and feathers dumped on him. And like Kit said, nobody does petty revenge like Dairine. So…everyone wanted Carmela/Harry…sorry. Carmela bounces back pretty quickly, though, doesn't she? And yes, this may eventually have a plot, the fact that his little scene in the mall will probably need some sort of patch if not actually a timeslide is an indication. The Powers that Be ain't too happy about people who do things like that on a regular basis, are they? So I'll try to keep updating, though I probably won't be able to much once school starts (weep weep sob sob) and in the meantime, please review!


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